


Over My Dead Body

by kerning



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Laser Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerning/pseuds/kerning
Summary: Lance asks Keith out on a double-date with Hunk and Shay to play laser tag. It goes about as well as can be expected.





	Over My Dead Body

**Author's Note:**

> For Klance AU month, any AU and for some reason I was set on laser tag!  
> This initially started as a big AU of an AU for my other story 'The Paladin Chronicles', but while there are hints of that plot here, I caved and narrowed this story down to pure fluff :) So no powers, a 'what if they were regular people?' type of deal.

                “Have a nice day,” Keith said as he slammed the till closed, mouth missing the plastered on customer service smile he’d employ if not for the world’s biggest distraction leant against a kiosk of brake fluid. Oddly patient. Suspicious. “Hey, what’s up?”

                “Got a minute?” Lance deemed it lounge-against-everything day, this time using an elbow to prop him up against the counter, chin resting atop his fist as he waited for an answer.

                “A full sixty seconds are all yours.”

                Lance made a face. “A long minute then.”

                Keith spared him an eye roll before yelling in the direction of his manager’s balding head. “Taking my break early.”

                “No skin off my nose.”

                Keith shrugged at Lance. Vaughn always said weird stuff like that.           

                “So—” Keith began as he flicked his register light off.

                “Excuse me, where are the air fresheners?”         

                From Keith’s perspective, the moment stretched overlong, but before he could answer Lance had turned to the lingering shadow. “Next register is open, he’s on break.” 

                The guy doesn’t move, maintaining eye contact past Lance to focus on Keith until his tongue worked. “Uh, aisle 9.”

                It’s only after he walked away, disappearing behind an aisle, that Lance spoke softly. “Is that the guy? Tall, pasty and desperate?”

                “Yup.” _He’s harmless._ But somehow with the way Lance scowled, he wouldn’t buy that. And upon pain of death would Keith admit to the fact that when Lance stood at his full height—outclassing the repeat customer—with such a curt tone it made his red polo a bit suffocating. Nope. It’d only make him more annoying. “Sales a sale. You were saying?”

                “Hunk and Shay already said they’d come so only person missing is you, June Bug.”

                “Sure.” His chest fluttered, annoyed at the damn thing for reacting to the nickname against his will. “But you left out some stuff. Like where we’re going. Or what day, basically everything but sure.” Keith forced his voice into a deadpan tone. “Unless it’s some weird foodie thing.” He can’t do that again. Lance appreciated good food a little too much. He almost died.

                “Ah, crud.” Lance swore under his breath, and a breathy laugh shook off the funk that had settled over him. “Yeah, none of that. Two words: laser tag.”

                It conjured images of running around with heavy plastic guns in hand in a smelly hot room not unlike the stench of a bowling alley. When he said as much, Lance assured him otherwise.

                “Dude, no, it’s gonna be so much fun. For real.”

— 

                It’s definitely not a rank bowling alley, that’s for sure. A full-blown arena lay before them. The strips of color outlining obstacles crawled up and over in an unclear maze as its swallowed up by the mist coating the lower level, a fog generating cover in swirls of magenta and ice blue.

                “Holy shit, this is really elaborate.” Keith kept his voice low, out of earshot of the gaggle of little kids also suiting up with their parents.

                Lance grinned back, practically vibrating beside him.

                “To the pit!” Hunk bellowed. He’s already in his vest, free hand knit together with Shay, her rifle slung over her shoulder while good-naturedly admitting she’d smoke everyone in the place. As they get into position, Keith has the sneaking suspicion they’ll tag out first.

                Lance and Keith had gotten vetoed by their friends, then outvoted by the group at large from the one shot, one kill mode the attendant offered. Keith squinted at the far too generous three life lights blinking on his vest, but as they made their way down to split off into factions, Lance tugged his arm.

                “They’ve got the low, let’s take the high ground.”

                Keith bit his cheek to keep from making a Star Wars reference. All bases covered. It checked out.

                They’re still going up when the ticker sounded overhead, counting down. Keith glanced at the clean scoreboard, their team marked down as HUNAY in golden letters, four dots above the name. Even if he didn’t like it, he conceded it was kind of sweet, for them, and absolutely credit-hogging no matter where they placed. The buzzer rang and Keith scrabbled onto the perch, Lance hoisting him the rest of the way up, laughter drowned out by intense music as the game began.

                From here almost the entire arena was a sniper’s paradise. Notes of Lance’s cologne, spicy and clean, gave Keith a false sense of vertigo he could’ve fallen into if not for lasers piercing the darkness. They’re out of range of the skirmish, but then purple lights wavered on top of a structure like a UFO, and Keith doesn’t hesitate. He aimed. Three intact little lights submerged under the haze. Damn.

                “Augh, I missed.”

                “What, where?” Lance leaned into his space, following his sightline. A glimmer of violet broke through the fog, wandering closer to their hideout. Three shots. Their score went up by three. A single light dimmed on the purple teams roster.

                What the hell.

                “A straight shot, easy.”

                It’s a freak accident. With Lance’s smirk as he reloaded the laser rifle, Keith refused to acknowledge it, darkness practically doing it for him.

                It’s not a freak accident. Two more hapless strangers appeared and each got taken out by Lance.

                So far, their team had a total of fifteen points and either Hunk or Shay carrying Keith’s dead weight made his trigger finger itch. Impressed as he might be, he’d be more useful on the ground.

                Lance called out after him. “Where are you going?”

                Surprised, yet not at catching Lance’s notice, who surveyed his domain like a hawk. Of course it extended to him. And he regained his footing on the ladder. “Gotta move.”

                “It’s been thirty seconds, June Bug.” Exasperated yet fond, Lance’s voice bent to panic as thin red lines fanned above his narrowing silhouette. “I’m coming after you, it’s too hot up here!” 

                Keith scrambled double-time, dropping the last few rungs, heavy boots absorbing the impact. Lasers sliced the dark. He swiveled, rifle heavy in his palms. “If they shot at you, they know our location.” He slid against the nearest wall, protecting the sensor at his back. “Stay close.”

                “Or we could make out?” All three of his lights somehow golden, Lance was a half-step behind.

                “We should’ve stayed in the nest for that.” Keith huffed. “Maybe after I score a point.” It’s not the most convincing _maybe_ , even to his ears, attacked as they are less by the screaming battlefield and more Lance’s everything. If they were on opposing sides, it’d be over.

                “It’s okay, not everyone can be a sharpshooter." Intent on ending Keith completely, Lance dropped his palm against his nape, equal parts assuring and mocking for how his strength sapped. "I got you.”

 _Dammit Lance_.

                “I’m not the weakest—I just need to get in close range!”

                “You do know you can’t pistol whip anybody, right?”

                Though his furrowed brow was more for his own benefit, the sheer amount of incredulity carried through on pitch alone. “Of course I know—” He cut himself short at the rustle of movement, pattering footfalls. Keith scrambled backwards, Lance uttering a soft ‘oof’ as they tipped over in a mess of limbs.

                “Oh snap.”

                A troupe of green lights bobbed by, their giggling taken around a corner towards the obstacle course.

                Coast clear, Keith freed up the other half of Lance’s lap. “Sorry.”

                “Not complaining.”

                “Better not.” A short-lived victory for quiet, Keith pressed to its full advantage by darting for cover.

                If where they split up followed logic, Hunk and Shay were still somewhere beyond the maze. Together they could become a stronghold in the pit. Crouched low, Lance leapt down to his position while Keith vanished, tucking and rolling down a ramp to land on his feet, gaining space while he sprinted into the mouth of the maze.

                The fog thickened and Keith’s nerves burned raw as a cocktail of yelling and frustration exploded behind them. The scoreboard flickered as the green team fell to last place, withdrawn to two players, then one. They were out.

                And the purple team still had a man up.

                “Open air market doesn’t seem as risky now, huh?” Lance sighed. Hindsight made it a good call.

                Putting that particular worry behind him as Lance caught up, it was too late to back out.

                Even Keith could scarcely see in front of him, the thick haze lit up in vertical stripes denoting the turns of the maze. Left, another left. Blue lights faded into magenta. From their old perch above, the maze cycled through all of the team colors. The hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stood on end as he stepped into another hallway of blue. “Lance?”

                “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. This is the second time we’ve run into blue lights.”

                Keith bristled. _We’re not lost, we’re not lost_. “We’re picking off any survivors.”

                “You're the only person I've seen, though you're the only thing I see most of the time anyway.”

                Keith's neck grew hot enough there was no way it escaped Lance’s touch or notice, and he relented to a peck on the lips. “You’re the worst.”

                “I had no idea the warpath would make you so stingy.” Lance hummed, squeezing his hand back. “If you follow the wall with your hand, eventually you’re supposed to get out. I think. That might not be true. And you’re probably supposed to do that at the start. Huh. Wonder is it right or left?”

                Keith chewed the inside of his cheek, distracting from his tingling lips. “Great info to know beforehand.”

                “You ran ahead but I love when you admit I’m right. We're—”

                Bodily flinging them the way they’d come, Keith spied a duo of pale blue dots in the thinning mist around the corner. Only two shots to take them out.

                Hell yeah.

                Rifle in hand, Keith launched himself into the hallway, firing an entire salvo into the unsuspecting blue vest. Or not so unexpected, recoil singing up his arm as that satisfying fading and dying blue light was stolen in full from Keith, their final life sliding sideways, blocking his angle of attack. This guy had jukes. He dropped to the ground, scrambling to reload and Keith shielded himself in turn.

                The fog was lifting. A clear shot in the dark as the guy fired back.

                The last dregs of vapor whispered on the floor and with a shout, Keith ignored his vest’s feedback and struck true. With his vest unlit, the guy swore under his breath and sagged in defeat.

                Little consequence for the adrenaline lifting both sides of his grin, even higher as their team stood in second place, still whole and going strong.

                “Padawan! You did it!” Lance cuffed an arm around his neck as Keith made a disgusted noise. “Grasshopper?”

                “No.”

                “Okay fine, whatever—aw June Bug, you got tagged.”

                “It’s fine.”

                Though Lance arched a skeptical brow at Keith’s stuttered calm, they wandered in companionable silence until Keith broke it. “I’ve got an idea.”

                “…What is it?”

                “Boost me before the fog returns.”

                After two, frankly, embarrassing attempts, Lance braced him by the shins. With his hands at the edge of the wall, Keith glimpsed the adjacent red hallway under the brim of the snapback wholly responsible for their previous failings. Never mind they spent most of the attempts arguing the other wasn’t wearing the hat the right way round.

                This time was gold.

                “Higher.”  Lance grunted beneath him, but Keith gained the height.

                Too much height.

                He achieved one multicolored eyeful of the yellow pit at the end of the maze before tumbling to the other side of the wall. “Ow.”

                “Mm, what the—” A woman’s voice broke through Lance’s muffled apology. “It’s not nice to snoop.”

                “Don’t shoot!”

                She giggled, red vest matching her partners. “You’re unarmed, how would that be fair?”

                Uncomfortable, but willing to accept her honorable terms, Keith ran away, following Lance’s call until they met in the middle.

                “You good?” Lance asked, passing him the laser rifle.

                “Yep, follow me.” Rifle at the ready, Keith led Lance through the maze, hallways gradually shifting yellow.

                “Almost forgot.” Keith halted, leaning forward to jam Lance’s hat on—the right way, thanks—lopsided grin at full strength as Lance twisted it backwards, his flustered expression covered neither by brim or the tuft of hair sticking out. “Making out is apparently not an original idea here.”

                “Uh… what?” Lance tapped his chin. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?”

                “Never mind.”

                Around the corner, the yelling from the pit raised into a crescendo, haptic feedback of rifles in quick succession. A shootout. Lasers crisscrossed the expanse of the pit, blocked by geometric forms like strewn boulders for cover.

                “Aw man,” Hunk said, unseen but loud over the commotion. “Good shooting, kid.”

                With the team down to three, they had to reconvene with Shay. Lance darted into the fray.

                “I’ll avenge you, Hunk!”

                “Oh for fucks sake!” Nearly choking on a groan, Keith twitched as his vest winked out. “What the—”

                “We let you go once.” Gesturing to his loosely held rifle, the lady in red from before wiggled her gun aloft as her partner congratulated her on the shot. “Not so helpless now. Fair’s fair.”

                “Can’t y’all go back to making out?” Keith grit his teeth; hunkered down as he was, he’d managed to leave his back open. Rookie mistake. He tightened his grip on the gun as she scoffed.

                He moved on instinct. Two taps rendered her out of the game. In Keith’s haste her partner leveled a shot at him, red team, red light. Vibrations echoed his thudding pulse and it’s their reload, a  cocking gun, that saved him, its simulated click all the time Keith needed to press his advantage and strike. Sharing a respectful nod between them, he dropped into the pit.

                “See what happens when you let down your guard?!” Shay yelled through the chaos, still fighting strong over the bunker where they’d huddled. Lance’s vest still had two hits left but that single light made him no less invincible as they stood back-to-back.

                “We’re sitting ducks here, Shay,” Lance drew her name into two syllables, whipping around at Keith’s presence. “You’re all one shot! How do we get outta this?!”

                “We don’t.” Shay raised her rifle, taking aim at those attempting to pick them off, but in the whining defeat of an opponent, her vest, a single spark of hope, fizzled out. A trail of giggles merged into the dark. “No, I had that kid!”

                “It was a trade, Sunflower.” Hunk cheered. “That little raid boss got me too, don’t feel bad about it!”

                Big talk, but she’d racked up a fair share of their score.

                “It’s been an honor,” Keith said, solemn in contrast to Lance’s cheeky salute to Shay’s slumped shoulders.

                “You guys have to go on without me.” She clapped her hands over their shoulders in parting, jerking back as the contact shook Lance’s vest.

                “Ah, I’ve been hit!” Lance swooned against him, his balance tipping a fraction before steadying with a hand to his back. “Medic!”

                “Anyways. Good luck.” Shay acknowledged Lance again. “I’m going to the bar, you still DD?”

                Lance broke character to reply an affirmative, reverting the moment she left the pit, and Keith shove-carried him with one arm to a stack of barrels. “How bad is it, am I gonna make it?”

                “Friendly fire should’ve been an option.” Keith mimed a gun with his fingers to Lance’s dramatics.

                “What a rude thing to say to a dying—” He shut up at the press of Keith’s mouth to his cheek. “Huh, I’m cured.”

                “It’s a real miracle. You’re so easy.” Keith curb stomped both his butterflies and his laughter into a snort. He flicked a glance at their scoreboard ranking, brows lifted to find their team’s place. “Now that you can walk, we can clinch the victory without you telegraphing our location. Right?”

                “Yeah,” Lance puffed a breath of air from the side of his mouth, grin a little loopy. “I can totally be quiet. Super stealth, coming right up.”

 

                 _Where is this kid?_ Spinning on his heel, Keith scouted out the fake marketplace, its open area providing entirely too much cover in the booths and crates. _24-23_ , up by one.

                Without warning, Lance lunged in front of him, a contoured silhouette and a flash of blue. The slight tremor settled against Keith’s chest. As the sole yellow light on the board, solitary fighter on the field, Keith took aim and fired.

 — 

                Squinting into the change of lighting, Lance knocked into him as they left the arena, their shoulders brushing. “Lot better than a sweaty gym, right?”

                “Maybe,” Keith enthused, but he really meant _hell yeah_ —though Lance’s answering grin said he knew regardless—while suppressing the urge to flinch at the touch. Lance’s grin faltered, question answered for him in the lift of a shirt sleeve, revealing a deep purple patch of skin. “I’ve always bruised easy. Looks worse than it is.”

                “Battle wounds, and you guys shot each other at the same time! Like an old western, freaking epic.” Lance amended, a cluster of kids parading by in a flurry of excitement.

                “Where’d that little gremlin go anyway?” No sign of what had seemed a fluffy head of brown hair in sight, Keith wished he could’ve at least said it was a good game, even if it hurt his pride to lose to a middle-schooler. Technically.

                Lance shrugged, slinging an arm over his shoulder with more gentleness than usual. “Let’s tell Hunk and Shay about the sweet taste of victory.”

                “It was a tie.”

                “And who is gonna tell them that?”

                Point taken.

 — 

                Keith searched for two dark heads of hair at the bar. Sure enough, Hunk and Shay were sharing a plate of food at a small table under mood-lit shadows. But Shay caught his eye first, her free hand gesturing while the other held the most mesmerizing thing Keith had seen in a while. A toxic shade of bright green, Shay informed him the drink was apple flavored, soft glow emanating from the glass an effect of special ice cubes.

                “I know, right?” Shay smiled up at them as they crashed into the empty chairs. “It’s so wild. Tastes like candy though. S’ok every once in a while.” An extensive bar hopping stint—which really meant sampling every dollar tallboy like a wine tasting—cemented Shay as his favourite friend-of-Lance’s. With her schooled straight face a little too gleeful at the edges to be entirely sober, Keith muted his own smile to crooked amusement. “So. How’d you guys do? You were in there forever.”

                “Eh, Keith can hit stuff when it counted.” Lance gave them the blow-by-blow, somehow the showdown much more enthralling with his retelling. “They got each other at the exact same time.”

                “Team Hunay, baby, that was all us! Wait.” Hunk’s face fell, dropping into a calculating squint. “Two versus one and you managed to tie? Wack.”

                Laughter bubbled up from the table as another appetizer slid onto its surface and the conversation meandered. Eventually turning to college assignments and courses, Keith zoned out as he reserved himself a silent townie. Hunk nudged his side with an elbow, urging him to try the food within the paper lined basket. Keith grabbed a fry, dipping it into yellow sauce and the flavors sparked across his tongue. He reddened and coughed into the back of his hand.    

                “Dude, it’s mustard.” Hunk’s expression slipped further into _yikes_.

                “Are you serious, why’s it so spicy?!” Keith reached for his ice water, his glaring mistake left in the open.

                It’s too late. Hunk and Shay spent the next five minutes clowning on him. Not even Lance can save him.

 

                “I can’t believe you took a shot for me.”

                “What can I say? I’m a big damn hero… and anyway, we’re on the same team.” Having dropped Hunk and Shay off at their dorm, now it was just the two of them, winking streetlights casting Lance’s profile sharp against the passing neighborhood. His voice betrayed a sort of tenderness roughened by the smirk he turned on Keith in full force at a stop sign. “Besides, and be honest here, how many points did you rack up on little kids?”

                “Hey, they were fair game!” Keith laughed, hoping he put enough force behind the objection to cover an unauthorized blush.

                “Okay, hotshot, next time it’s just you and me, no free points, no mercy. Rivals to the bitter end.” Lance continued as if Keith weren’t keen on anything starting with ‘you and me’ from the jump. “I’m so gonna beat your ass.”

                “You will willing to take that bet?”

                “Hell yeah.” Car veering towards the curb and a trash can, Lance swapped through his playlist, poppy synth traded for low bass lines. Correcting his course as he looked up, his dimple deepened in the shadowed dark. “I’m the best.”

                Keith’s not a poetic guy. His brain had supplied the words _him hot_ on constant loop when Lance first entered his field of view. Pure panic, until Lance had opened his mouth and scarfed down his entire foot. That had been that. A peace offering, making amends, and here Keith was all these months later, a warning about curbside trash cans dying on his lips. “You’re something all right.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> My friend came up with the nickname June Bug for Keith cause he loves being outside so much and its cute so please tell her thank you~ 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! Creating without feedback kills creativity for fan-works!


End file.
